


180 Degrees

by MsTrick



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Bisexual Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Falling In Love, Love Triangles, M/M, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:21:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26890579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsTrick/pseuds/MsTrick
Summary: For years, Gabriel has managed Akande’s professional and private affairs and he’s never considered the rotating cast of arm candy as anything more than detailed spreadsheets. Until now. But so what if Jack is gorgeous and funny and smart? Gabriel would never be stupid enough to fall in love with his boss’s boytoy. And even if Jack was stupid enough to return his feelings, Gabriel would never betray someone as dangerous as Akande for something as silly as love... Right?
Relationships: Doomfist: The Successor | Akande Ogundimu/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison, Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison
Comments: 50
Kudos: 104





	1. A triangle with an interior angle of 180° is degenerate

**Author's Note:**

> Every single time I think welp, that's it, I'm probably done writing multi-chapter Reaper76 fics, my brain is like HAHA YOU FOOL!
> 
> Shout out to [Slynx](https://twitter.com/alaskan_harmony) for coming up with a title I liked! I wanted something to reference love triangles and they pointed out that the interior angles of any triangle must add up to 180 degrees. I also like the connotation of doing a 180, which is basically what Gabe ends up doing XD
> 
> Also, this whole fic was inspired by a Twitter thread I saw aaaaaaages ago. I don't have the link or any idea who tweeted it, so let me know if you've got the deets! I'd love to give credit where it's due.

* * *

It wasn’t that Jack didn’t have fashion sense. He’d put together an outfit tasteful enough to catch Akande’s eye in a night club, after all. But Jack was stereotypically handsome and muscular enough to get away with a closetful of tight t-shirts and cheap jeans that would look boring on anyone else. Jack’s daywear was equally uninspired. Same jeans but with button-downs instead of the clingy tops. He wasn’t as trashy as some of Akande’s previous arm candy, but his wardrobe still needed serious upgrades.

Gabriel lounged in a seat by the department store’s changing rooms, attention divided between his tablet and Jack parading in and out in various outfits.

“The grey Armani suit is good,” he called out to the attendant waiting patiently at hand. “We’ll take two of those. Tailored, of course. Get his measurements. Any other shirts in that color? Those darker shades of blue bring out his eyes.”

“You know, you could talk _to_ me, instead of _about_ me,” Jack huffed at the mirrors. His reflection scowled in triplicate at Gabriel.

“You’ll also need to alter the shirts, bring in the few centimeters of extra fabric at the waist.” Gabriel finally looked at Jack. He had dealt with enough of Akande’s spoiled pets to be unmoved by their pouting sass or entitled posturing. “You’re not the one paying for or choosing the clothes, so I see little point. And as much as I value the whole horny Masters student vibe you have going for you, Akande’s not going to want to take you out like that. So, if you want to actually sit at a table in a 5-star-restaurant instead of serving one, I suggest you just do as you’re told.”

Gabriel observed the flustered pink tint in Jack’s cheeks with mild triumph before his gaze returned to the inbox splayed open on his tablet. Three new emails in the last minute. God, could no one do anything without him micromanaging them? Idiots. In spite of the irritation, Gabriel felt a sly form of pride that so many people struggled to meet Akande’s expectations without his input.

Akande Ogundimu was the most powerful CEO in the country, expanding his family’s already successful prosthetic-technology company to an international corporation leading the field in cybernetics. Lucrative contracts with several governments to develop tech to enhance soldiers had set him (and any great-grandchildren he might have) up for life. Akande’s demands of people were just as specific and critical as expected of someone with such an impossibly high net worth. His intelligence and ruthlessness were legendary.

Jack emerged from the dressing room back in his own clothes, an outfit Gabriel had bought for him a few weeks ago: expensive jeans and a form-fitting cashmere sweater.

“Thanks for your help,” Jack said, handing the attendant the pile of tried-on garments.

The attendant rolled her eyes and deliberately folded her arms. “Just leave them in the changing room.”

“Hey!” Gabriel barked. “YOU don’t get to talk to him like that.”

The attendant jumped. “But he’s just—”

“He’s Akande Ogundimu’s boyfriend. Disrespecting him is like disrespecting Akande, who you might recall owns this entire building. Do you know what happens to people who fail to respect Akande?”

Another attendant rushed over, her heels clicking the marble floor. “We’re so sorry, Mr. Reyes. She’s new. And an idiot. Please allow us to gift you both a pair of gold cufflinks as an apology.”

Gabriel placed the order for Jack’s new clothes, told them to email him the invoice and texted their driver as they left the lavish department store. The large white Jeep Compass was already idling at the curb.

“You don’t need to defend me any more than you need to talk down to me,” Jack growled.

A crisp October wind scurried up the street and Jack paused to breathe it in. Autumn was his favorite season, Gabriel knew. It was his job to keep track of things like that, because more often than not Akande was too busy to. Nothing made arm candy happier than when Akande supposedly remembered some trivial preference. Between prompting Akande with ideas and grooming Akande’s lovers to please him in return, Gabriel sometimes felt like an actor playing two roles at the same time. I got you something, Gabriel. Oh, why THANK YOU, Gabriel! Oh, don’t mention it, Gabriel. You’re the best boyfriend ever, Gabriel!

Gabriel was about to snap at Jack to hurry up when half a dozen messages appeared on his phone in quick succession. All were dense blocks of text and all were from his wife. He skimmed them and a lump of ice formed in his throat.

_…moving out…this hasn’t been a relationship for years…know more about your boss’s fucktoys than your own wife…never home because you’re Akande’s lapdog…divorce papers are on the kitchen table…_

The cold spread through Gabriel’s body, numbing his arms and slowing his heart to something stupid and sad. He had promised to make it up to her. He’d thought he had more time. He’d thought…Well, whatever he’d thought, he’d been wrong, hadn’t he? It crept up on Gabriel’s awareness that this was a precipice his marriage had been heading towards for a while. But still, to fucking _text_ him that she was leaving and then immediately block his number? He may not have been the most attentive of husbands recently but he deserved better than _that_ surely.

“You okay?” Jack asked.

Gabriel looked over at him, not comprehending. “What?”

“Are you okay? You seem upset.”

“I’m fine, blondie. Mind your own business.”

Gabriel closed his messages and returned to staring at his work inbox. The words blurred together dangerously, so he turned towards the window. Autumn might be all radiant colors and apple picking in the bumfuck countryside Jack came from but here in the city, it was just cold people hurrying along bleak grey streets.

A hand landed gently on his shoulder but he shook Jack off without looking at him. Jack got the hint and left him alone. Gabriel did what he always did whenever he and his wife…ex-wife…argued: he flung himself back into work. He responded to all his emails, finished preparing logistics for several upcoming events and then opened up his spreadsheet on Jack to make sure that he’d made a note about autumn being his favorite season.

Part of Gabriel’s job was to perform background checks on all Akande’s personal associates, from casual fuck buddies to potential business partners. Whenever arm candy lasted more than a month, Gabriel started a spreadsheet. Jack was just the latest of a dozen or so spreadsheets filled out over the last decade. To be honest, Gabriel found it relaxing collecting details about people. He liked puzzle games and he liked having the edge over everyone else in the room, and here he was able to combine both.

John Francis Morrison. Went by Jack. Natural blond (who knew those still existed?). Aged 28. Born in Bloomington, Indiana. He was a history professor at the city’s biggest university, which made Gabriel laugh because he should have guessed that Slutty Historian was exactly Akande’s taste. Jack only taught class once a week, but then with Akande bankrolling him, it wasn’t like he was hurting for a paycheck.

Jack’s best friend was a woman named Ana Amari, a professor in the Archaeology department. While in high school, he managed to somehow pull off the impossible by being both the quarterback and head of the Chess Club. He still had the physique of an athlete and in dull moments, he played chess on an app on his phone.

In a neat column in the spreadsheet, Gabriel listed the blond’s favorite foods, colors, books, movies and hobbies. Another column rated how much Jack liked certain types of dates, romantic gestures, gifts, etc. But there were other insights into Jack’s character that Gabriel stored only in his head.

Like Jack’s preference for being manhandled and dominated in bed. Gabriel had bought all manner of toys at Akande’s behest – restraining ropes, ball gags, a paddle – and later noticed burn marks on Jack’s wrists.

Or that Jack was quietly uncomfortable with how much money Akande spent on him. Gabriel thought it was a self-esteem issue at first, but later realized that Jack was keenly aware of how lopsided the power balance of their relationship was.

Or that Jack was attracted to Gabriel. Jack stole surreptitious glances at him, lingering on his mouth and his shoulders and his thighs. Gabriel was used to people staring though; he knew what he looked like and dressed to show off those assets. He also knew the tics and tells of someone edging towards infidelity – it was one of the many reasons Akande kept him around – and Jack was showing none of them.

Gabriel could call it self-preservation. Jack had a good thing going with Akande and wasn’t dumb enough to let his eyes stray in his presence. But Gabriel had a hunch something far more dangerous kept Jack faithful.

A conscience.

-

The spa was located on the ground floor of a gleaming hotel. The large lobby boasted a voluptuous blown glass chandelier, velvet couches, priceless art and plumes of flowers in vases as tall as a man. Jack looked around, visibly impressed, as Gabriel knew he would be. Country boys were easy to please.

“Alright, go get primped and polished. When you’re done, come find me at the bar-lounge area.”

“Do you like doing this?” Jack asked.

Gabriel gave him a tight smile. He very much wanted a hard drink to process the fact that his wife was now his ex-wife, but he had to toe the line on how rude he was to Jack. Unlike the idiot attendant at the department store, Gabriel knew exactly what would happen if Jack pouted to Akande that Gabriel was mistreating him.

“Do I like working for Akande? Yes.”

“Why?”

“I find solving logistical challenges gratifying.”

Jack snorted. “I’m not interviewing you here. I just don’t get why someone who so clearly has his shit together would settle for being Akande’s errand boy.”

Gabriel’s gaze turned cool. “I know white guys tend to see all men of color as ‘boys’ but my technical title is Executive Assistant.”

“What!?” Jack spluttered, shoulders rising in defense. “I didn’t mean it like _that!_ ”

“You’ll be late for your appointment,” Gabriel said, jerking his chin at the spa entrance before turning towards the lounge.

Gabriel was in absolutely no mood to have some sort of bullshit introspective conversation with his boss’s lapdog. This was probably Gabriel’s least favorite thing about Jack. Around Akande, Jack was pliant and coquettish and disinterested in anything that wasn’t his boyfriend. But when it was just him and Gabriel, Jack revealed a side of himself that was more thoughtful, intelligent and contrarian. Gabriel had once called Jack out on this two-facedness, but Jack had just shrugged and described it as a form of diplomacy.

Gabriel circled back to the reception desk to check in under Akande’s name. In the elevator, the glossy keycard granted him access to the penthouse on the top floor. It was almost absurdly lavish, far too large a suite for two people. A wall of windows looked out over the city, glimmering gold in the late afternoon sun. The king-sized bed was raised like a throne and faced a television at least four feet in width.

Gabriel spent the next hour directing vendors and hotel staff, ordering the fridge stocked with bottles of Akande’s preferred champagne, arranging cupcakes on the table in a heart shape, tying balloons to chairs and replacing the fresh flowers with bouquets of Jack’s favorites: sunflowers and heather. After they’d all left and the sun was setting, Gabriel unpacked the set of leather and rose gold cuffs for hands and ankles, the matching collar and leash, and bottle of lube, and laid them all out on the bed.

It was all leagues nicer than what Gabriel and his wife had been able to afford on their honeymoon. And this was just for Akande and Jack’s 3-month anniversary. It said a lot about how infatuated Akande was that he’d asked Gabriel to go to such lengths for a relatively mundane celebration. If Jack made it to six months or a year, doubtless Gabriel would be booking flights to Finland or the Maldives or something.

As Gabriel closed the door behind him and waited for the elevator, he tried not to picture his own cold dark house, empty except for the divorce papers stacked on the kitchen table. He wondered what else his wife took when she left. It occurred to him that he should probably take his wedding ring off at some point.

The sunken lounge just off the lobby was filled with tastefully tiny tables and leather armchairs, many hidden from others by potted palms and squat walls of orchids. The bartender gave Gabriel a strange look when he ordered his regular cocktail of Fireball, Kahlua and triple sec, but smiled obligingly when Gabriel put a $20 in the tip jar and said to make it a double.

He sat down, fully intending to read his wife’s diatribe about why she was leaving him, but instead checked again that Akande had received the debrief about what to expect this evening. Once, Gabriel had fucked up and told that Akande he and his then-girlfriend were celebrating her birthday instead of their six-month anniversary, which led to a particularly awkward dinner. Gabriel still winced when he thought about it and was still glad Akande hadn’t outright fired him for it.

Gabriel sighed. His ex-wife’s accusation that he was more involved with Akande’s relationships than his own wasn’t exactly inaccurate. But architecting his boss’s love life was infinitely more fun than navigating the bogs and trenches of his own. He could put his creativity to use designing beautiful dates and romantic getaways without being required to then suffer through the mushy small talk and googly eyes. Sometimes, it felt like his whole marriage had been his wife wanting to Talk About Us and Gabriel avoiding that conversation because as far as he was concerned, there was nothing new to say.

Halfway through his drink, his second phone vibrated in his pocket. The number that appeared onscreen had no name attached to it, but Gabriel recognized it as Baptiste’s.

“Yeah?” He answered.

“Akinjide Adeyemi is dead.”

Gabriel’s entire body went rigid. “Say that again?”

“ _O Bondye_ ,” Baptiste groused. “You deaf? Akinjide Adeyemi is dead.”

“When?”

“About half an hour ago.”

“How did it all go down?” Gabriel asked, eyebrows drawn together in intense concentration.

“I’ll give you the grisly specifics in person later, but Akande told me let you know now.”

“Can I talk to him?” Gabriel asked, glancing at his watch. “There’s going to be a lot to take care of. I want to discuss game plans as soon as possible.”

“He’s…uh, freshening up at the moment,” Baptiste said.

Gabriel dodged the gory images springing into his mind. “I see.”

“Hang on…” A muffled pause. “He says that he’s looking forward to tonight, that he should still arrive on time and that business can wait until the morning. You know his policy.”

“No mixing business and pleasure, I know.”

If Gabriel believed in astrology, he’d be wondering which planet was in retrograde and which star was lined up with which sun’s asshole because in the span of six hours, both his personal life and professional life had been utterly flipped upside down.

Finishing his drink, he mulled over the implications of Adeyemi’s ‘early retirement’. In truth, Gabriel could only speculate what Akande would want him to do in the coming weeks and months. Akande was securing his influence in a very unpredictable realm. If he really intended to take over Adeyemi’s empire as the new Doomfist, Gabriel would have to be hypervigilant to prevent any evidence of Akande’s shadow career from surfacing. That meant reassessing every liability, including…

“Hello? Earth to Gabriel?” Jack said.

The blond had had his skin scrubbed and moisturized, his nails trimmed and buffed, his eyebrows neatened and a full Brazilian wax that no doubt stung like a bitch. As per Gabriel’s instructions, he’d swapped out the cashmere sweater for a tailored shirt and a sport coat. He looked like a movie star.

“Do I get a stamp of approval?” He asked, lips curling into a smile that even Gabriel had to admit was damn alluring.

“Barely,” Gabriel said, dragging his eyes away. He stood with a stretch. “I told Akande you’d be waiting for him in the lobby.”

“Hey, listen,” Jack said seriously. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

Gabriel shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.”

“No, I—” Jack stopped. “Look, Akande really respects and relies on you. He always describes you as practically family. And, I know it’s a bit early to say, but I can see myself being with Akande for a long time. I’d like us to try and be friends, if possible.”

The earnestness was churning Gabriel’s stomach. Jack meant every word. Gabriel didn’t want to tell him that Akande rarely kept a lapdog around longer than a year. Or that when Akande did decide to break up with him, he’d send Gabriel to do it. Or that Gabriel might expedite the process by pointing out to Akande how much a liability it was to have someone as earnest and conscientious as Jack hanging around.

“I said don’t worry about it,” Gabriel gruffly repeated, turning away to avoid the look of disappointment on Jack’s face.

The lobby was bathed in warm yellows. Sultry jazz piano murmured from hidden speakers.

Akande entered like a god returning to his palace. A cream-colored suit hugged his large, muscular body, perfectly tailored, of course. The top two buttons of his green silk shirt were open, contrasting beautifully with his rich skin tone. Gabriel had suggested the outfit and was rewarded by the pleased blush that painted Jack’s face when Akande strode towards him.

“You look like you like what you see,” Akande crooned.

“Always,” Jack said, grinning as Akande cupped his chin and pulled him into a long kiss.

Jack wasn’t a small guy but next to Akande, he was practically a twink. The illusion was helped by the fact that Jack’s gravelly voice went insanely breathy when he spoke to him. And that Akande was a good sixteen years older than him.

Akande pulled back, hands lingering possessively on Jack’s trim waist. Gabriel tried not to picture how gory those hands might have been an hour ago.

“Did you have a nice day?” Akande asked.

“I did.” Jack trailed a finger down Akande’s chest. “I got all dolled up for you and I even got to watch Gabriel tell off a shop attendant for being snotty.”

Laughing heartily, Akande turned to Gabriel. “Always on point. You should take the rest of the night off.”

“With the amount of correspondence I have to sort through?” Gabriel huffed.

“Put a pause on all current projects, correspondence included,” Akande said. “We’ll discuss how to proceed tomorrow in light of new developments.”

A hollow sort of dread rooted in Gabriel’s gut. “Sure, boss.”

“I believe you have something for me.”

Gabriel handed over the keycard to the penthouse and was again rewarded by the way Jack’s whole face lit up. He could play this farm boy like a fiddle.

“We’re _staying_ here tonight? Damn, I thought we were just having dinner at the restaurant. This is amazing!”

“What can I say?” Akande said, giving him another sound kiss. “I like to make my baby happy.”

“You do it very well.” Jack looked up at him with naked adoration that expanded the hollow sensation inside Gabriel.

He said good night and watched the two of them walk off towards the elevator, shining and joyful and attractive.

Gabriel lingered in the lobby, debating whether he wanted another drink at the bar or if he should just buy a bottle of tequila to take home. With no one waiting for him there and no work to distract him from the quiet, Gabriel had a long bleak night ahead.


	2. A triangle with one interior angle measuring more than 90° is obtuse

“You want me to what?” Gabriel asked.

Several days later, he was standing in Akande’s corner office certain he was having a stroke, because he couldn’t have heard that right.

Outlined by the tall windows, Akande graced him with a small smile and reiterated, “I want you to be acting CEO on all established projects. I’ll up your salary to suit your expanded responsibilities, of course.”

Gabriel blinked a great deal. The magnitude of the opportunity wrapped around him and filled the room like a warm aquarium.

Gauntlet Inc. was in the top three most profitable corporations in the country. Their established projects on various cybernetic prosthetic technologies were already worth billions and R&D had at least a dozen more developments in the pipeline. They had their pick of corporate partnerships and a global market for their products. The government contracts to enhance soldier performance were for good for another five years.

Being acting CEO would elevate Gabriel’s career to an entirely new level. A raise could mean finally paying off the mortgage on his apartment. Plus, he thought, he’d be kept busy enough to drown out the ringing hollow of his personal life.

“You already act as my representative in so many situations that this shouldn’t change too much about your day to day,” Akande was saying. “I’ll remain on hand to advise on new acquisitions or to sway the board on particular decisions, but otherwise, I trust your good judgment to lead this company in a healthy direction.”

“Thank you,” Gabriel said with a blend of disbelief and gratitude. “I won’t disappoint you.”

“Of course, you won’t.”

“I guess you intend to be busy restructuring Adeyemi’s empire,” Gabriel deduced.

Akande’s office was one of the few places they could speak openly without fear of being recorded or overheard. Even the tall windows were tinted in such a way that anyone peering through binoculars from another skyscraper would see only black.

“It was disappointingly easy to take him down,” Akande said, meaning it. He respected a genuine opponent. “If it weren’t for the lovely night with Jack afterwards, I should have spent the whole evening dwelling on the disappointment. Fortunately, gaining full control of Adeyemi’s—let’s not call it an empire, it hardly deserves such a title—Adeyemi’s disorganized network of buyers and sellers should prove a more engaging challenge.”

Akande turned away from the view of the city, but rather than sit behind the massive teak desk or in one of the leather armchairs gathered around a glass coffee table, he prowled around the room like a tiger. Akande disliked sitting in general but especially during important meetings. _Laziness of the mind and laziness of the body go hand in hand_ , he always reminded Gabriel. Personally, Gabriel would have preferred to sprawl across the leather couch, but he had long gotten used to standing while Akande paced.

Gabriel pulled up an encrypted file on his tablet. “Adeyemi had several shell companies. Are you planning on using one of those as a base of operations?”

“I’ll be operating from here.”

“You want one base of operations for both of your careers? Remember how you once told me to warn you if I thought your arrogance might trip you up?”

“This isn’t a matter of arrogance,” Akande rebutted calmly. “Gauntlet simply has the most secure intranet in the world and venturing outside of it would open us to more risks than operating from within it.”

He wasn’t wrong. The notorious hacker Olivia Colomar had been paid a fortune to design their system from the ground up and continuously update it. They hadn’t had a single breach or information leak in all the time Gabriel had worked there.

“Alright,” Gabriel conceded reluctantly. “I’ll work with Sombra to set up a separate encrypted server within our network. Any preferences for what it’s called?”

Akande considered for a moment. “Talon.”

And Gabriel thought _he_ had a flare for the dramatic.

“Any other matters of arrogance you wish to discuss?” Akande asked, bemused.

“One.”

“Go on.”

“Jack.”

Akande leveled a stare at him. “You consider him a liability.”

“Yes.” Gabriel collected his thoughts with care before continuing. “Jack’s a good guy but he might lean too much into the Captain America stereotype. If he catches wind of any less-than-savory activities, his conscience might not let him turn a blind eye.”

“Gabriel,” Akande said patiently. “I understand that the recent departure of your wife has left you suspect of romantic relationships, but Jack is infatuated with me and isn’t the type to overthink things. He is not a threat to us.”

“With all due respect, I disagree. Any outsider could be a threat.”

“So, you’re suggesting what?” Akande asked, voice deepening in a way that told Gabriel he was treading on thin ice. But Akande hadn’t hired him to be a yes man.

“I suggest you break up with him and stick to one-night stands until we have everything stabilized.”

“No chance.”

Gabriel let out a long exhale through his nose. For such an intensely intellectual, rational man, Akande was as blind as anyone else when it came to a crush. There was no arguing with love.

“I do appreciate your caution, Gabriel, but being overly cautious is in itself a risk. If it will ease a bit of your anxiety, we’ll strictly communicate in Spanish when discussing matters related to Talon.”

Spanish was just one of six languages Akande spoke with near fluency, his polyglot achievements looming impressively over Gabriel’s common bilingual upbringing.

“Are you sure he doesn’t know Spanish?”

“Are you?” Akande asked, amused. “You’re the one who does background checks.”

Gabriel unlocked his tablet and took a few minutes to reread the compiled data on Jack.

“There’s nothing to suggest he knows anything above a basic high school level,” Gabriel conceded. “And he graduated a decade ago. None of his current friends or past roommates or ex-boyfriends appear to be Spanish speakers. There’s always the possibility though.”

“Find a way to check then, if such a possibility concerns you that much,” Akande said, already dismissing the issue.

An idea struck Gabriel. “Permission to take him out for lunch?”

_

For someone who’d offered his hand in friendship less than a week ago, Jack appeared unreasonably apprehensive when Gabriel invited him out. Fidgeting with his shoulder bag, the blond assessed the tiny restaurant’s admittedly plain exterior with a grim look on his face. The aroma of slow-cooked spiced pork that greeted them as soon as they stepped inside belayed any worries about the quality of the food. However, Jack’s shoulders remained wound tight.

“Gabi!” The teenaged waitress yipped. “Qué pasa?”

Gabriel opened his arms and she stepped into the hug, her skinny arms wrapping around his middle. Her hair and skin were a shade darker than his own.

“Quién es este? Su novio? Olvidaste de tu esposa bastante rápido.” She grinned, scanning Jack from head to foot. “No te culpo.”

Gabriel tracked Jack’s reaction out of the corner of his eye, but the blond gave no indication he understood the compliment.

“He’s a colleague,” Gabriel replied in English, shoving her shoulder.

“Uh huh. Hablas español, guapo?”

Jack started as he realized she was addressing him. “Um. Not really. Un poco.”

Gabriel barely stifled a snort of laughter. Jack’s pronunciation was terrible, exactly what you’d expect from someone who only retained a handful of basic high school vocabulary.

“Shame,” the waitress giggled.

She showed them to the only free table and left them with a pair of menus.

“Guess you come here a lot, huh?” Jack surmised, stiffly tucking himself into his seat.

“It’s quite literally the taste of home for me,” Gabriel said. “The waitress is my cousin Candela and her mother’s the chef.”

“Ah.” Jack frowned in confusion.

“What?”

“Just not sure if your family owning the place increases or decreases the odds of you breaking up with me.”

Gabriel stared. “What?”

“That’s one of your jobs, isn’t it?” Jack fiddled with the paper menu. “Taking out the trash.”

“Who told you that?”

“Just an educated guess.” Jack gave him a sardonic look. “Which you just confirmed.”

“What are you, a detective?” Gabriel huffed, caught off-guard. “No, I’m not here to deliver a notice of break-up. It’s just lunch.”

All at once, the tension melted out of Jack. It was like watching sunshine break through clouds.

“Oh thank fuck. I was _this_ close to freaking out.” He ran a hand over his face with a laugh. “Regardless, I am going to need a drink.”

“Don’t you have a class to teach this afternoon?”

“You don’t need to be sober to lecture on historic military engagements. It’s not like the people who took part in any of those battles were sober.”

That pulled a laugh from Gabriel. He called out, “Candelita, dos mezcales ahumados.”

She cocked her hip and stared at him.

“Por. Fa. Vor,” he relented.

After she brought them their drinks, Gabriel had the delight of watching Jack verbally butcher every item he ordered off the menu.

Candela gave Gabriel a sweet smile and said in swift Spanish: “I want him to raw me into the wall.”

Gabriel shooed her away, again reassured by Jack’s lack of reaction. His boy-crazy cousin was acting exactly the way he’d hoped she would.

“Damn, that’s good,” Jack said after a sip of the smoky mezcal. “Seriously, it’s exactly my taste.”

Gabriel hummed and masterfully resisted the urge to say, _I know_.

“So, if you’re not here to break my heart by proxy, uh, why exactly did you want to have lunch?”

“You’re the one who wanted to try being friends,” Gabriel reminded him. “And Akande doesn’t seem all that interested in dumping you any time soon, so. Might not be a total waste of time.”

Jack smiled. One of those warm, genuine smiles that Gabriel didn’t know what to do with. Most of the people he kept company with weren’t what he’d call candid. It almost made him feel guilty for his own ulterior motives and multi-leveled manipulations. Almost.

Gabriel took a sip of mezcal. He could see exactly why Akande was so motivated to spoil the blond. Making him happy unleashed the same endorphins as giving a puppy a treat.

Jack’s eyes glinted. “If Akande told you to give me an enema, would you?”

Gabriel choked, alcohol burning his esophagus. “Je- _sus_ , where did that come from?”

“Just testing how far your legendary loyalty goes,” Jack said with a cheeky expression. “Well?”

“Sure.” Gabriel shrugged. “I’d use a firehose.”

Jack laughed long enough that Gabriel’s deadpan expression cracked into a grin.

“Damn,” Jack said after he caught his breath. “Okay. If he told you to carry me to work on your back?”

“Sure, I enjoy lifting dead weight.”

Jack snickered. “If he told you to cover us both in silver paint and reenact Shakespeare?”

“You’d have to keep up. I majored in theater.”

“Huh,” Jack said, interest piqued. “Would have guessed Business or something. How’d you end up working for Akande?”

“He liked my Jean Valjean.”

Jack blinked. “Your what?”

“The lead in _Les Misérables_? Haven’t seen many plays, have you?”

Jack scratched the back of his neck. “Not really. Only theater we have back home is football or the Christmas pageant at church.”

“Tsk. Basic fashion sense and no interest in musicals. You sure you’re gay?”

“Haha, stereotyping,” Jack said with a roll of his eyes.

“You’re the one with the sugar daddy.”

“Aw don’t be jealous.”

“Oh, trust me,” Gabriel huffed. “No interest in being in your position.”

“You’d rather groom lapdogs instead of be one?”

“Exactly. I don’t quite have the ability to make nice on command.”

“I noticed,” Jack deadpanned.

“How about we just say we have different skillsets.”

“Being slutty is a skill now?”

The corner of Gabriel’s mouth quirked up. “Takes practice, talent and effort, doesn’t it?”

“It does.” Jack nodded. “Requires discipline, plenty of stretching, repetitive drills with large objects.”

A laugh burst out of Gabriel.

Jack grinned. “I guess that makes Akande my coach.”

“Actually,” Gabriel said, taking another drink. “He’d probably like that. Should you be looking for roleplay ideas.”

“Anything about my boyfriend you _don’t_ know?”

“At this point? Admittedly little.”

“You’ll have to let me know your going rates for bribery.”

“Ah, Morrison, if I could be bought, I wouldn’t be where I am today.”

Jack gave an exaggerated sigh. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

Candela returned to their table with their food, plates piled high with marinated meats, spiced sauces, beans, rice and cheese. Jack shoved a forkful in his mouth and gave an appreciative moan at how good it tasted.

“Seriamente,” she said to Gabriel, her tone deceptively neutral. “I want him to bend me over this table and pound me until he moans like that again.”

“This is delicious,” Jack said. “Please tell your mother she’s an amazing chef.”

“Will do!” She chirped.

Lunch rolled on and his cousin’s comments grew absurdly lewd, and by the time they split the bill, Gabriel was quite satisfied that Jack had near zero proficiency in Spanish. And to his surprise, conversation hadn’t stalled once. Gabriel had been dreading the slog of small talk he’d have to suffer through on this reconnaissance mission, but even when he and Jack veered into antagonism, the back and forth continued at a breezy pace.

The possibility of a real friendship floated towards Gabriel like a balloon on the wind. But he let it pass him by. It was a poor idea to get attached to any of Akande’s bedmates. They came with an expiration date and once Akande was finished with them, Gabriel was by default finished with them too.

-

Adeyemi’s network of buyers and sellers was indeed too disorganized to be called much of an empire. The more information they uncovered, the messier it got. In the safety of his corner office, Akande groused his astonishment to Gabriel.

“The possibilities for expansion and elevation are numerous, but Adeyemi never bothered to take advantage of them.” He shook his head in disbelief. “All this opportunity to shift the balance of power from the shadows and Adeyemi chose the simpleton’s goal of getting rich.”

Gabriel made a noncommittal noise. His views aligned with his boss’s on many things: the people in your life needed to serve a purpose, this world was kill or be killed, etc. But Gabriel was aware of a keen difference in their attitudes toward money.

Akande had been born with millions into an enormously influential Nigerian family. He was no slouch and it was his own ingenuity that transformed his millions into billions, but money was so omnipresent for him that he often overlooked how much of an impact it made in others’ lives.

Solidly middle class, Gabriel’s family had never been poor, but they certainly weren’t rich. Money was something to be worked for and carefully managed. While they never wanted for the basic necessities, they had to make choices, like deciding between fixing the water heater or going on vacation this year. Akande had never once been in such a position.

“Speaking of,” Akande was saying, “I’ll need you to help Mauga and Baptiste on the night shift.”

“You got it.”

Inwardly, Gabriel sighed. Switching to the night shift meant a number of precautionary measures. His commute home was half an hour north on the subway, but after entering the station, instead of descending to the platform, he slipped into the bathroom to change his clothes. With his tasteful work attire stuffed into a backpack, he exited in a nondescript black hoodie and jeans, with a beanie tugged low over his head.

He switched his primary phone to airplane mode to prevent the GPS from tracking him and booted up his second phone. Baptiste had texted him an address. Gabriel studied the subway map on the wall to determine his route before setting off.

After an hour of switching trains and doubling back and watching his six, Gabriel climbed out of the stuffy subway to the brisk, salty air of the docks. The sky was a bruised purple. Not a star to be seen. The wide river was sluggish and ugly. He avoided the streetlights as he made his way to the correct warehouse and slipped inside a side door that had been left unlocked.

He found himself in a shadowy canyon of shipping crates that smelled of sawdust and sweat. A row of offices overlooked the enormous interior. The windows of one of them glowed. After his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he could pick out the metal staircase that snaked up the opposite wall like a vine. He wove around stacks of crates and spotted Trung Le Nguyen standing at the foot of it, palming a pistol. As always, he wore white.

“I don’t know how you keep those suits so spotless,” Gabriel rumbled, approaching calmly.

Nguyen had the gun aimed at him before his brain registered who was speaking. He lowered it again. “You’re late.”

“Yeah, well, unlike you, I have two jobs,” Gabriel retorted, passing him to scale the several flights of steps as noiselessly as he could.

At the top was to a corridor lined with the doors to the overlookers’ offices. It was easy to tell which one he was looking for. Not only was light shining from beneath it, he could hear someone groaning in pain.

He knocked. They were expecting him, but it was never a good idea to surprise a room of armed people.

“Who is it?” Baptiste called.

“Reaper.”

Baptiste unlocked the door and the smell of blood hit the back of Gabriel’s throat.

A one-lightbulb lamp hung from the ceiling, casting the two men handcuffed to chairs in uneven shadows that revealed flickers of their phosphorescent skull tattoos. They were both Hispanic thirty-somethings, thuggish and battered, one bleeding from the knife planted in his shoulder.

“These guys are the ones running Los Muertos?” Gabriel asked.

“They’re the guys who _would_ be running Los Muertos had we not taken out their leaders. Not the promotion they hoped for, I imagine,” Baptiste said wryly.

Had Akande not had a very clear policy banning fraternization, Gabriel might have considered taking Baptiste to bed. The younger man’s high cheekbones, readily smiling mouth and chiseled arms had featured in more than one of Gabriel’s fantasies. But Gabriel had no intention of pissing Akande off just to scratch an itch. Plus, he had a sneaking suspicion that the hulking figure looming over their hostages might have tapped that first.

Mauga reminded Gabriel of Akande with fewer inhibitions. Large and muscular, both men had cunning that belied their brutish appearances. But Akande burned cold when he was angry while Mauga erupted hot.

He placed a large finger on the knife buried to the hilt in the gangster’s shoulder.

“Last chance,” he said, jiggling the hilt.

The gangster glared into Mauga’s sadistic grin. “Go to hell! Los Muertos will never join you!”

“After a few more minutes, our medic won’t be able to do much to save you,” Mauga taunted.

The other gangster paled, his eyes on the fresh blood gurgling red out of his partner. “Wait!” He wheezed over what sounded like a few broken ribs. “You said we’d keep our lives and still be able to run things as long as we give you info about all our buyers and sellers, right? That’s what you want?”

“Cállate, pende—AAHHH!”

Mauga pushed the knife another few centimeters into his shoulder.

From where they stood in the shadows, Gabriel noticed Baptiste clench his jaw. The medic was probably counting down how many more minutes of blood loss the guy could take before he passed out.

“Yes, to answer your question,” Mauga said to the gangster he wasn’t casually torturing.

“Fine,” the gangster replied, defeated. “Fine, we’ll give you what you want.”

“Was that so hard?” Mauga sneered. “Bring him a laptop so he can get started.”

Baptiste stepped forward, eyeballing the bloodied man before stepping around to unlock the cuffs restraining the more compliant partner. A laptop was thrust into his lap and he started feverishly typing out information, Mauga looming over his shoulder.

Baptiste took the opportunity to undo the other man’s cuffs as well and moved him onto his back on the dusty floor. The hunting knife sticking out of him was so big, it looked like a Hallowe’en prop. Gabriel leaned against the wall, observing, unwilling to relax just yet.

The wounded man let out a hysterical laugh, head knocking against the floor. “You’re so fucked.”

“Try not to talk,” Baptiste admonished, snapping on latex gloves.

The man lurched upwards, suddenly grabbing Baptiste’s shirtfront with two bloodied hands. “You think they don’t know you’re coming?! You think—”

Mauga grabbed the guy’s collar and flung him back like a ragdoll. The back of his head had cracked onto the floor.

“Think Shimadas dun have plans to deal with you?” The guy slurred, blood seeping out from his skull. “You’re so fucked.”

Gabriel didn’t like the sound of that.

He didn’t like the sound of that at all.

Baptiste again tried to move in to treat the man’s wounds, but Mauga held him back.

“Let me go!” Baptiste shoved at him.

“He chose his exit,” Mauga huffed.

He was right. The man was dead.

The other gangster was staring in shock at the limp, unmoving form until Mauga roared at him, “Did I say you could stop?!” His fingers resumed their jittery dance across the keyboard.

Baptiste was looking down at the bloody handprints smeared over the front of his shirt with a deeply unsettled expression on his face.

Mauga turned to face where Gabriel stood in the shadows. “Looks like we’re going to need your services after all, Reaper.”

“And here I was hoping you’d give me an easy night,” Gabriel drawled.

This particular body wouldn’t be too hard to dispose of. The warehouse sat on top of the filthy river, after all. The main challenge would be making absolutely sure not a speck of the messy evidence got on his clothes.

Jack’s voice unexpectedly drifted through his thoughts. _That’s one of your jobs, right? Taking out the trash._

If only Jack knew how accurate that was.


	3. Every triangle has a unique circle passing through all three vertices

No one could be involved in the world of illegal arms dealing without knowing about the Shimadas. Old connections in the American military and older yakuza money made for a sturdy, lucrative conglomerate. But Gabriel, like many others, had believed that the Shimadas’ territory ended where the Shimadas said it did.

“Not even sort of,” Sombra snickered. “You wouldn’t believe where their digital fingerprints turn up.”

“Thought the Shimadas were all cash-based,” Gabriel said, in Spanish of course.

He was sitting in the waiting area of a swanky barber’s shop while Jack was groomed. The sun had just set, staining the sky in its wake. Gabriel adjusted his earpiece, relieving some of the pressure on the back of his ear.

The hacker had happily agreed to divulge what she knew about the Shimadas after Gabriel had promised her another favor. Money meant little to someone who could open other people’s bank accounts as easily as chocolate bars, but Sombra liked nothing better than for people in high places to owe her favors.

She smirked up at him from his phone. “They are. It’s not about tracking the money. It’s about noticing absences, figuring out what route Shipment A took to get to completely unrelated Person B. Trust me when I say their network is an invisible hydra.”

“Throw me some specifics here. Contacts, locations, something.”

“You’re going to owe me a pretty big favor.”

“I already owe you eight. What’s one more going to change?”

“Alright,” Sombra laughed. “I’ll make you a spreadsheet to add to your vast, treasured collection of spreadsheets.”

Gabriel grunted in thanks. “Any tips for the match tonight?”

“Johnson’s the favorite to win but rumor has it Genji Shimada has a thing for the underdog and might have pulled some strings.”

Clean shaven, his haircut sharp, Jack meandered over to where Gabriel was sitting.

Gabriel ended the call and looked Jack over. “It’ll do.”

“One of these days, I will get you to give me an actual compliment,” Jack said with a pout.

“Not if you keep sticking out your bottom lip like a 4-year-old.”

Jack chuckled and wound his scarf around his neck. “Daddy likes it.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes, holding the door open into the chilly evening. “I don’t doubt it.”

“Not your thing, huh?”

“I tend to like an equal power balance in my relationships.”

Gabriel meant it derisively. Jack noticed.

“Is that what tanked your marriage?” He asked. “Loss of balance?”

“Not talking to a lapdog about this shit.” Gabriel pointed him towards the car parked on the street and didn’t say goodbye before slamming the door after him.

The car pulled away and Gabriel caught the train home to change. He had a boxing match to prepare for.

Genji Shimada ran underground sporting events in half a dozen cities, not entirely with the blessing of his family, and Akande felt an appearance was just what the fledgling Talon empire needed to establish their presence in the market the Shimadas dominated. It was tactical arrogance and Gabriel completely agreed.

Akande was already in the backseat when the chauffeur wheeled the white Jeep Compass into Gabriel’s driveway. Contradictory feelings swamped him as he locked his front door: sadness at the emptiness of his house balanced with relief that he didn’t have to fight with his wife about going out at night for work.

Akande was dressed in a luxurious navy suit that was doubtless too formal for Genji’s wealthy avant-garde crew, but he wasn’t attempting to fit in. Quite the opposite actually. Gabriel, on the other hand, would more easily blend in in his black button-down shirt and grey trousers. While the crowd watched Akande, Gabriel would watch them.

“We’re heading in the wrong direction,” Gabriel said.

“We’re not,” Akande corrected. “We’re picking up Jack first.”

“What?” Gabriel was taken aback. “You’re making this a date? What happened to keeping business and pleasure separate?”

“He’s making me reconsider that policy.”

Gabriel’s eyebrows lifted. “Meaning what?”

“Jack has his uses. You could even consider him an asset.” Akande grinned. “And my puppy has a thing for violence.”

Before Gabriel could think of a response, the car stopped outside a duplex in a cheapish part of town and he dutifully stepped out to move to the front seat. His breath fogged the air but a second later, he forgot to breathe entirely.

Jack sauntered out of his building looking like pure sex on legs. Black buckled boots hugged his calves. Dark brown kohl lined his eyelids, making his blue eyes pop. He had poured himself into red leather pants that clung to his legs like paint and beneath a matching jacket, wore nothing but a fishnet shirt.

Something glinted in the streetlight. Jesus Christ, were those nipple piercings? Gabriel’s mouth went dry at the steel barbells visible through Jack’s practically nonexistent top. They’d be rubbing the inside of his jacket all night, a persistent lowkey tease.

Jack smirked, his hip brushing Gabriel’s as he passed him to climb into the backseat and directly onto Akande’s lap.

Gabriel didn’t move for a second. His blood felt hot under his skin. As he maneuvered into the passenger seat, he angled his tablet to hide the bulge in his trousers. The noises behind him weren’t helping – Akande’s soft groans, Jack’s raspy sighs, the creak of leather, the slick sound of kisses moving over skin.

Asset indeed, Gabriel thought ruefully. There wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell the two of them wouldn’t be noticed as soon as they entered the stadium. Jack may not have had much of a daytime fashion sense but he knew damn well how to attract attention at night.

Pre-match drinks were being served in the pit in front of the ring, which gleamed clean and ready for the fight. The enormous speakers pumped out Japanese rap. The stands could seat several hundred and were already half-full.

Heads did indeed swivel as Akande entered with Jack on his arm. Though they weren’t on the VIP list, you’d never know it from the way Akande strode directly towards the cocktail party. Gabriel hung back, but remained close enough to keep track of the action.

Genji Shimada himself separated from the gawking crowd and greeted Akande with a devil’s grin. Designer sunglasses were shoved into his bright green hair. A pair of bodyguards trailed after him, looking harried.

“Ogundimu-san, I’d say I’m surprised to see you here but word travels fast.” Genji snapped his fingers and a waiter with a tray of champagne flutes appeared. “Join us.”

Akande smirked, taking two glasses and handing one to Jack. “I suspect your hospitality has more to do with irritating your father and brother than with offering me a true welcome.”

“Your suspicions are correct,” Genji said casually, knocking back the remainder of his own drink. “I would also prefer to enjoy my evening, which does not involve a professional pissing contest.”

Eyes fixed on him, Akande raised his glass and took a sip.

While eavesdropping on the exchange, Gabriel watched Jack’s face. Akande was playing a dangerous game bringing him here. One candid phrase from Genji could reveal everything and then what would that golden little conscience do?

Fortunately, in contrast to the loudness of his appearance, Genji was raised in an industry of shadows and secrets. He wielded allusions and euphemisms with a natural air, even in his second language. Unless Jack was aware of the illegal weapons trade, he’d understand little of the conversation. Jack probably knew he wasn’t there for his eloquence anyway. As happy, pretty arm candy, his goals for the evening were to make others jealous of Akande and maybe find somewhere to surreptitiously suck his cock.

The noise levels in the stadium rose as the stands filled, preventing Gabriel from hearing more. He found his seat and half-listened to the build-up to the match, absorbed in monitoring the crowds. While Johnson was being introduced and his entrance was met with roars, Gabriel was pinpointing Mauga, Baptiste and a few other members of Talon that he’d surreptitiously planted as security.

But his attention was thoroughly coopted when they announced the underdog challenger.

Jesse McCree? As in the skinny kid who grew up down the street from him? The guy who wore a cowboy hat everywhere, including prom? _That_ Jesse McCree?

The large mounted screens featured a swaggering, well-built man with tanned skin and an attractive wealth of body hair. The mischievous grin was the exact same though. Gabriel huffed. When Jesse had confessed to having a crush on him in high school, Gabriel had gently rebuffed him, citing feelings too familial to be romantic. If Jesse made the same confession today, Gabriel wouldn’t be so ready to turn him down. Might be worth trying to chat with him in the backroom later, provided he didn’t get his face beaten in.

The bell rang. Several tense rounds went by, the two fighters circling each other. With Jesse in the ring, it was a challenge for Gabriel to keep sweeping the crowd for threats and intel. Akande and Jack, seated only a few rows from the action, were also glued to the fight. Jack cheered loudly when either boxer knocked the other down.

Gabriel tore his eyes away and squinted through the din. A figure across the dim stadium caught his attention. The man wore his affluence and discipline as easily as the smart pinstriped waistcoat and trousers. His black hair and goatee were sculpted to perfection. His posture was immaculate, but his eyebrows were drawn together in a frown. His white sleeves were rolled to his elbows, revealing a glimpse of his famous tattoo.

Hanzo Shimada.

What was he doing here? It was no secret he disapproved of his brother’s pursuits yet he didn’t appear about to shut the place down. He seemed as fixated on the match as anyone.

The bell rang a final time and the stadium erupted into roaring.

Gabriel looked at the ring to find the ref raising the arm of a sweating, battered Jesse, declaring him the victor, and then glanced back at the heir to the Shimada Empire. Hanzo’s shoulders had lowered a fraction, as though in relief. Interesting.

Victory music was blasting ( _We will We will ROCK YOU!_ ) and the VIPs mobbed the stage to offer Jesse congratulations and champagne and slaps on the back.

Jack evidently _did_ have a thing for violence. He sat astride Akande’s lap and was kissing him ferociously, practically grinding his whole body forward. Akande’s broad hands roamed beneath the blood red leather jacket and down to squeeze the blond’s ass.

Genji attached himself to Jesse’s side and the two of them, flanked by bouncers, exited the arena, doubtless to clean Jesse up for some rowdy afterparty. Gabriel wouldn’t get a moment alone with him tonight, but he bet Jesse could be convinced to grab a drink sometime.

He wanted to check that his old neighbor hadn’t gotten himself in over his head with the yakuza. And once he’d made sure Jesse wasn’t shackled by unpayable debts, he would see if there was a way Jesse’s connection with the Shimada brothers could be exploited for their own purposes.

Gabriel’s conscience twinged. When had he become so willing to use people? He thumbed where his wedding band had rested. Probably a while ago, if he was being honest.

-

Jesse had responded with enthusiasm to Gabriel’s suggestion of a meet-up and in pure Jesse style, picked a honky tonk dive as the location. It was a cheap bar in a row of cheap bars, but it had a surplus of personality. Country music blared out of the speakers. Line dancers cut the floor.

The bartender greeted Jesse by name and a shout went up, people cheering his recent victory. Gabriel smiled, a moment of uncomplicated happiness for his childhood friend. The two of them grabbed cold bottles of beer and settled into a booth to chat about mutual acquaintances, which neighbor had married which grocery boy, which widow had gone and got herself a hot new wife, which asshole finally got what was coming to him.

Personality-wise, Jesse hadn’t changed all that much, but there was definitely a more mature, wary edge to him that hadn’t been there the last time they’d seen each other.

“Listen,” Gabriel said during a lull in the conversation. “I have to admit I’m a bit worried about you being so cozy with Genji Shimada. He’s a parking ticket away from prison for life.”

“Not with his family’s money,” Jesse laughed. “Extradition, at most.”

“They can’t extradite _you_ to Japan,” Gabriel pointed out.

“Ah hell, Gabe, you don’t gotta worry.”

“Sure, I do.” He wryly shook his head. “Who’d have thought we’d end up working with opposing cartels in the illegal arms business?”

“In this city, anythin’ can happen. I ain’t workin’ with the Shimadas though.”

Jesse adjusted his hat, a nervous tic Gabriel recognized.

“Ah,” he chuckled. “I do believe Jesse McCree is in love.”

Jesse grinned sheepishly at him. “And this time, it’s with someone who returns the sentiment.”

“Great. Now, I’ve got to worry about you winding up in jail _and_ you getting your heart broken.”

“Hush. I’ve gotta worry the same about you, don’t I?”

Gabriel frowned. “What? Hardly.”

“You tellin’ me everythin’ you do for Akande is aboveboard?”

“I take precautions.”

“Course you do.” Jesse said, sardonic smile on his lips. “No one ever said Gabriel Reyes wasn’t efficient. Efficiency’s got nothin’ to do with your heart though.”

“I already laid out my divorce sob story—”

“Not talkin’ about the former Mrs. Reyes. Talkin’ about the blond that Genji said you couldn’t keep your eyes off of.”

For a second, Gabriel genuinely didn’t know who Jesse was referring to. “You mean Jack? Akande’s piece of ass? It’s my _job_ to monitor him.”

“Undressin’ him with your eyes part of your job?” Jesse teased.

“In fairness, it doesn’t take much imagination when the man’s in skintight leather and fishnets.” Gabriel took a sip of beer. “But even if I am mildly attracted to him, he is as off-limits as it gets, so my heart is safe and sound.”

Jesse gave him a thoughtful look. “You ain’t worried about him?”

“I did his background check. He shouldn’t pose any risk to—”

“No, no, no, I mean worried _for_ him.”

“You think someone might go after him because he’s got a comfy spot on Akande’s lap?”

“Speakin’ as someone with a comfy spot on a dangerous man’s lap, yes, I can almost guarantee someone is checkin’ out that angle of attack.”

“Well, it’s not like Jack can be taken hostage or anything. Everyone knows Akande changes arm candy every few months. Not exactly valuable collateral.”

“Christ, Gabe, what about his life? His value as a human being?”

Gabriel let out a slow exhale through his nostrils and studied the label peeling off his beer. “Can’t really think of people in those terms these days.”

“So, if the Shimada-gumi declared war by sending Jack’s head to Akande, you’d feel nothin’?”

“Is that what they’re planning?

“Hypothetically,” Jesse pressed.

Gabriel pictured Jack’s earnest blue eyes imploring him to be friends, how polite he was to complete strangers, how perceptive he was. Sure, Gabriel would regret if that ray of sunshine was snuffed out, but he wouldn’t mourn forever. You couldn’t mourn what you didn’t get attached to.

His night shift phone rang and Baptiste’s nameless number popped up on screen. Excusing himself, he left Jesse and the warm, loud bar to stand in the quiet frost of the street.

“We may have a problem,” Baptiste said in lieu of hello. “Jack was approached by a pair of suits that Sombra just IDed as reps from the CIA. The three of them went into his office at the university for a meeting and haven’t emerged yet.”

Adrenaline bucketed down Gabriel’s spine.

After a rushed goodbye to Jesse, he raced uptown in a cab to the cluster of streets that housed the college. This late in the evening, most of the classroom buildings were dark but, fortunately, the Social Sciences Center wasn’t locked. Gabriel had the exact location of Jack’s office in his notes and dutifully took the elevator to the fourth floor.

Apathetic fluorescents buzzed overhead as he maneuvered down the hallway past quiet lecture rooms. Hearing voices, he ducked into an open one and waited for the two suits to pass by. Both were potbellied men over sixty who had an air of upper management about them. Gabriel forced himself to wait until the elevator dinged closed before marching into Jack’s office.

“Uh. Hi, Gabriel,” Jack said, confused.

This Jack was an entirely different creature than the one that writhed on Akande’s lap in public. No longer polished to a seductive shine, he had his sleeves rolled up and his glasses on, a pile of post-it note infested books on his desk and a wall of history texts at his back.

Whoever sat at the other desk had long gone home, so Gabriel closed the door behind him, valiantly restraining himself from throttling the blond right now.

“Have you been drinking?” Jack asked.

“Want to tell me what that meeting was about?”

Jack huffed and took off his glasses. “Not sure that’s any of your business, is it?”

“You usually hang out with the CIA? You working for them?”

“I mean, I’m hoping to,” Jack said, stretching his arms overhead and cracking his back.

“So, you offered them what?”

“My CV,” Jack said coldly. “Which I’m sure you have memorized.”

He closed his laptop and stood, attempting to maneuver around Gabriel to where a saddle bag was hanging on a hook. Gabriel grabbed his wrist and jerked him closer.

“What did you offer them?” He repeated with a growl.

Jack pulled himself free. “You’re drunk and I don’t know what you’re talking about. If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go home. I’ve had a long day.”

Gabriel shoved him backwards into the door and locked a forearm into the base of his throat, using his body weight to keep Jack still.

“What the hell?” Jack barked, struggling against the hold.

The blond practically lived at the gym and had no shortage of strength, but he didn’t have any brawling experience. Gabriel doubted the man had ever even been in a real fight.

“Do you actually care about Akande at all or was it all an act?”

Jack’s eyes flew wide. “ _What?_ Of course, I care about him!”

“But you’re still going to sell him out to the CIA?”

Jack stared at him, long enough that Gabriel began noticing details he really shouldn’t be focusing on. Like how Jack’s abs were hard but his pecs were plush, or the delicious blend of his cologne and sweat, or how soft his lips looked. Without Jack struggling, this position took on way too much intimacy.

“They wanted advice on niche military strategy,” Jack said slowly. “They’re considering contracting me as a consultant on conditions for success in combat in unique conditions encountered in Afghanistan.”

“Right,” Gabriel drawled skeptically. “Not like the CIA has its own combat strategists or anything.”

“Of course, they do. But, as you doubtless know because you’re a professional stalker, I’m a specialist who deals with unorthodox conflict scenarios. I wrote my thesis on them.” Jack wet his lips. “Are you saying that Akande could potentially be in trouble with the CIA?”

Gabriel froze.

 _Fuck._ He’d screwed up. This was why you didn’t mix business with pleasure. When you drank on the job, you made stupid-as-hell mistakes like this one. Either Jack was a spy putting on an excellent act, in which case Gabriel had just supplied him with the exact information he was hoping for, or that wide-eyed innocence was genuine, in which case Gabriel had just exposed Akande’s double life to his very well-meaning boyfriend.

Okay. No need to panic yet. Gabriel might still be able to talk his way out of this.

“What of it?” He bluffed.

“What of it? That’s _bad_ ,” Jack said, bewildered. “I don’t want Akande to do shit that gets him into trouble with the law.”

“God, you’ve been a goody-two-shoes all your life, haven’t you?” Gabriel sneered.

“I’ve never committed a crime, if that’s what you’re asking,” Jack retorted, wrapping his fingers around the forearm notched against his throat to push at the hold again.

Wary of Jack bolting, Gabriel held firm and tried to ignore how warm Jack’s body was against his. “There isn’t a clean line between illegal and legal.”

A laugh burst out of Jack. “Yes, there is?”

“On paper maybe. In real life? Things don’t separate that easily. That boxing match you liked so much was built on a mix of illegal and legal money, illegal betting licenses, legal sports industry practices, paid-off officials and legally hired employees. That’s just how life is.”

“There are sporting events out there that _are_ completely legal, you know.”

“Right. Because nothing illegal ever goes on in the world of professional sports.”

“Yeah, but then they’re caught and punished for it.”

“You really think they’re all caught?”

Jack scowled in irritation but didn’t answer.

“You said you could see yourself being with Akande a long time,” Gabriel pressed. “Does that hold true even if he has a few shady side projects?”

Jack thought for a moment. “I suppose, yeah. I mean, if it’s just stuff like the boxing match.”

“Good,” Gabriel said. “Because Akande really likes you. I’ve never seen him so into someone.”

Jack’s eyes lit up. “Really? You’re not just saying that?”

“He’s never taken anyone to a match before. He really trusts you.”

Jack smiled and Gabriel’s stomach gave a strange kick. The irony of coaxing Jack into a deeper relationship with Akande while Gabriel had him pressed intimately against a door wasn’t lost on him. 

“If you care about him,” Gabriel continued. “You need to refuse that contract with the CIA.”

Jack’s expression dimmed. It had clearly been an opportunity he was excited about. Gabriel could imagine that for someone in his field, a collaboration like this would be a notable achievement.

Jack eventually sighed. “Alright, fine, I’ll turn them down.”

It seemed more and more likely that this situation was exactly what Jack said it was. The odds of him being a spy had admittedly been pretty low to begin with and, as a theatre major, Gabriel had serious doubts Jack was acting. Gabriel needed to watch himself. His own paranoia was tripping him up.

Gabriel released him and stepped back. Still slumped against the door, Jack absently rubbed at his throat. It was only then that Gabriel noticed the flush in the blond’s cheeks and the slight bulge in his jeans. Despite the heat threading through his own veins, he rolled his eyes.

“You really do have a thing for violence, don’t you?”

Jack let out an embarrassed laugh. “Can’t help what you’re into, I guess.”

Something about those words tickled Gabriel. It was the feeling of a cat brushing by your ankles in a dark room, unexpected and unseen but not unwelcome. Jesse’s teasing about his close monitoring of the blond surfaced in Gabriel’s mind. He shook himself. Christ, he needed to get laid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY HALLOWE'EN!!!


End file.
